In the heart of a bustling city, amidst the towering skyscrapers and the ceaseless hum of traffic,

there lived a humble automobile named Rusty.

Rusty was not one of the sleek, shiny sports cars that whizzed by, nor was he a rugged off-road truck that ventured

into the wilderness.

He was an ordinary sedan, a bit worn and battered, but with a heart full of warmth and a spirit

that refused to be tamed.

Rusty's days were filled with errands and deliveries,

shelling passengers from one place to another,

traversing the city's maze of streets and avenues.

He carried families on vacations, students to schools,

and elderly couples to doctor's appointments.

He was a silent witness to the city's life, its joys and sorrows, its triumphs and struggles.

But one day, the mighty automobile named Rusty, his life took a turn for the worse, but not at his own hand.

Rusty was stolen by a criminal, who had only his own life in mind, and didn't care at all for

anyone else's life or property.

Shortly after being taken, Rusty was being driven by the miscreate at a high rate of

speed and took a turn too quickly,

rolled multiple times after hitting a ditch, bursting into flames, and died a fiery death.

Rusty was no more.

This little story is one that's played out every single day in America, as well as most other countries around the world.

Your beloved car is taken from you without your permission.

It's stolen.

...